


Alarming

by elation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, a dorky Cas, some cussing on Dean's part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elation/pseuds/elation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a scale of one to ten, Dean Winchester can truthfully say that he hates Freshman students at a level of about fifteen. When someone sets off the fire alarm of Corbin Hall in the middle of the night, Dean soon finds his exception in a beautiful boy standing out in the cold in nothing but his boxers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alarming

“God DAMNIT!” Dean screams out like a petulant child, throwing his arms out beside him in bed with defeat. Benny, his roommate, smirks at him in the dark on his way to turn on the light of their dorm. He doesn’t even bother trying to cover his ears. The fire alarm on the wall doesn’t relent, much to Dean’s annoyance, blaring and blaring and fucking blaring.

“It ain’t a semester at KU without a 3 A.M alarm,” his roommate snickers at him, nonchalant as if he doesn’t, in fact, have to be up in three hours or anything. As if they both don’t have to be. 

Sadly, yeah, Dean knows he’s right. Corbin Hall was legendary in that at least three or four times a semester, some ass hat set off their incredibly old and incredibly sensitive alarms at the most inconvenient of times. Almost always a false alarm. Almost always a Freshman. It didn’t mean he had to like it. On the contrary, mornings like these were precisely the reason he found an overwhelming urge to go and knock some kids’ asses out for being so thoughtless.

It was typical, but still incredibly frustrating. The semester had only just started two weeks ago, and as a Junior, Dean already had an exam in his Continuum Mechanics lecture in the morning and if he didn’t get any damn sleep he could kiss his sweet 4.0 goodbye. Jo would be all too lucky. 

Stupid Freshman. Stupid alarms. 

Benny apparently takes pity on him, because he drops the teasing smile with a pat to his blanketed foot and opens their door, obviously waiting for Dean to actually get out of bed so they could head downstairs. 

If looks could kill, the ceiling Dean was currently brooding at would have fallen in long ago. With his ears ringing and a roommate impatiently staring at him bored at the door, he shucks his covers back and hops down from his bed. 

“I swear to god these Freshman man, like how hard is it not to smoke pot at 3 A.M.? You’re in college, at least be smart about it, snort coke, take some ecstasy, something, shit.” And maybe he shouldn’t be condoning drugs, but if it kept him sleeping like a baby, those losers could remain high as a kite for the whole semester for all he cared. 

“Ah, come on now. Who said it was drugs? Remember last semester? The rice cooker?” And Dean retains a groan, because yes, he does, and no, does he still not understand who would risk their lease for a rice cooker. Is no one satisfied with a microwave anymore? 

Dean and Benny tail behind a few other stragglers, older students who know better, and make their way down the two flights of stairs to the designated exits. Benny opens the door and holds it for Dean with a cheeky smile, waving out his hand for Dean proceed, and is thanked with a forceful push to the face and a passive “We’re not friends.” 

They make their way over to the nearest side walk and Dean stares at the hordes of people coming out of the north and south wings of Corbin Hall with similar looks of dreary, semi-conscious disgust. Good. If he had to be miserable, everybody sure as hell was going down with him. 

A whistle sounds from behind them and Hester, their R.A, yells out to the crowd, “Let’s go! Across the street! Seriously? Right beside the hall? What if there was an actual fire? You’d all be dead. Come on, move!” A collection of groans accompanies the mass crossing the street, and isn’t that remarkable, Hester’s voice is annoying at all hours of the day. Who knew? 

Beside him, Benny is carrying on a discussion with their neighbor from across the hall, Becky, and Dean tries really hard not to roll his eyes, because wow, he’s being really grumpy tonight. Leave it to his best friend to start up a conversation after a whopping five minutes of being conscious. The ability is lost on Dean.

Someone kicks him lightly in the shin and Dean looks up questionably into Benny’s amused eyes. Always amused. “You cold, brother?” He laughs and nods his head down at Dean’s crossed arms. Dean follows the gaze and yeah, he’s shivering. It’s the middle of October in Kansas. It’s friggin’ cold. He can feel his teeth even begin to chatter. 

“Want my coat?” 

Benny begins to shuck his coat, but Dean is quick to stop him with a hand and a shake of his head, because not to his manhood tonight, no sir. “Dude, I’m fine.” 

Something more amusing, apparently more so than Dean’s crumbling masculinity, catches Benny’s eye because he is no longer looking at this roommate and his shameless shivering, but something directly behind him. He begins to laugh and carries on in taking off his coat.

“Looks like you’re not the only one,” he points behind Dean, at the point of origin he was looking at seconds ago and Dean turns around to look. 

Standing there is a boy. A beautiful boy. With dark, almost black hair, caramel skin, and a wonderfully wonderful jawline that could cut Dean’s fingers clean off. Well, if the shitty campus lights were anything to go by. Wow. Wow wow. 

His eyes travel downward, and oh, oh god, that’s got to have been what his friend was referring to. The poor boy is standing out in the cold, in the dead of night, with his boxers on. Boxers with bees. What a nerd. Dean snorts. He just can’t help himself. Seriously?

But man oh man, those thighs could choke out even the strongest of men, could choke out Dean. The thin material of the boy’s boxers does nothing to hide the impressive bulge he’s sporting either, even with the freezing temperatures. 

Currently the boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet, interchangeably crossing his arms to his chest and balling his fist in front of his mouth to push any warm air he can through them. He looks positively miserable. Poor kid. Dean’s an asshole and even he feels bad. 

Well, he might be a little bias if the fact that if given the chance, Dean would lay this kid out and watch that pretty little face come undone in .2 seconds. Jesus, was this boy gorgeous.

Benny’s apparently trying to get his attention, because he’s fully taken off his jacket at this point and is repeatedly hitting Dean in the arm with it. Dean turns around and prays to god that the dim street lights are hiding the faint blush and sudden arousal that’s washed over him. 

By the look on his best friend’s face, his pleas go unanswered. That, or Benny has just got way too good at reading him over the years. 

“I say that freshman over there could use this, whaddaya think?” He waggles the jacket in front of Dean to take. Freshman is right. Only a freshman would think it completely pertinent to rush out of his room without pants. 

Instead of caving, he tries to play it off, tells his friend, “It’s his own fault.” 

“Yeah, but somethin’ tells me after that look that you’re gonna need to use this here as an excuse to go talk to him. The kid’s freezing his ass off, can’t make a move if he gets frost bite and dies.” Benny teases, and Dean really hates how perceptive Benny is sometimes. He wonders if he should even continue to put up a fight. No use in lying to himself, he does want to talk to the guy. 

Before he makes a decision though, Benny pushes the jacket into his his hands, turns him around, and pushes him forward towards impending doom without preamble. 

“Hey - No. I’m -” 

“Nut up, Winchester. Go on now, he ain’t got all day.” He is released and Dean listens to his retreating footsteps, probably back to finish up his conversation from earlier. Dumb Lafitte and his dumb niceness and dumb perception and dumb…face. 

By now fully awake, Dean realizes he has two choices. He can either A, go talk to the beautiful boy and maybe or maybe not charm his socks off, and hopefully those hideous boxers let’s be honest, or B, turn around and join Benny and his boring attempt at being friendly with people they literally could give two shits about but somehow always seem to be around at the exactly wrong moments when Dean is so opposite of being in the mood to hear about the farm back home or their vast collection of spoons, which is basically always. Yeah, the first option is starting to look way more appealing already. He thinks he’d even risk rejection as opposed to listen to another one of Becky’s awful stories. 

With that in mind, Dean makes his way over to where the boy is still fruitlessly trying to keep warm, darting eyes checking, waiting, for that relief whistle to tell them that they all can go back inside. The kid is so caught up in what he’s doing, he doesn’t even notice that Dean has stopped right next to him.

Dean instantly feels awkward because, what do I say? Here, you look like you’re freezing your ball sack off? That’s not very smooth. Be cool, Winchester, be cool. 

Instead of saying anything right away, Dean settles on a light cough to get his attention. It seems to work, because the boy instantly looks up and locks eyes with him and yeah, there it goes, the breathe straight out of Dean’s lungs.

The boy is even more attractive up close, and with the deepest blue eyes Dean has ever seen, color that resembles the oceans Mary used to take her son to on her days off. Dean loves that color, loves this boy’s eyes. 

Suddenly the jacket is jerked out of his outstretched hands, so much for formalities, and the boy wastes no time fitting his arms through the holes and wrapping the article of clothing tightly and gratefully around his body.

“Thank-thank y…ou,” a deep, gravelly voice chatters out and Dean is still left wondering, where in the hell has this angel been all of his life?

Not only that, but when has just completely lost his game? It never fails. Give him a girl to talk up, and within five minutes, they’re his, compliant and eager like melted butter. Put a cute boy in front of him and Dean is suddenly the buttered one. 

He’s got this, smooth and easy, give him the old Dean Winchester charm and the playing field will be even just, nice and easy - 

“I uh..I like-I like your boxers.” Seriously, Winchester? What the hell was that? He visibly cringes with embarrassment. Abort mission. Houston, we fucked up. I repeat, we have fucked up. Back away now with the little pride you have left. No more boys for you. Too dangerous. 

Dean’s embarrassment seems to not matter one bit, because the boy looks down with a faint smile on his face, like he finds Dean’s misery enjoyable. Or maybe he’s sincere. Dean can’t tell. The kid’s got a fluid, yet somewhat stoney aura. Even the way he holds himself. It was as if the boy was a walking contradiction. Dean didn’t like not being able to read people. 

The boy is glancing back up at Dean again, grinning even wider than before, tells him somewhat timidly, “I like bees.” 

Ya think? Dean visibly relaxes, because the boy hasn’t walked away yet, even though maybe that’s just because he just gave him a coat to keep him from becoming an icicle, but maybe that grin on his face is Dean’s green light to keep going, and maybe Dean doesn’t want to stop.

“Bees are cool. Spiders are cooler, though.” 

“No way! Bees pollinate flowers. Flowers are…well, they’re beautiful. Spiders are lame. The spawns of Satan, you could say,” and to accentuate his point, the boy sticks his tongue out at Dean. Unfortunately for him, Dean’s not one to back down. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re the lame one dude, spiders are cool as hell. Did you know that the silk they make their webs out of is considered the strongest material in the world? Scientists can’t even recreate the same material, even with all of the technology we have today. That’s awesome. You can’t tell me that’s not cool.” 

Dean’s taking the piss and is about 88% sure his companion knows it. He’d never admit it, but Dean has some of the worst arachnophobia on this earth. Cried when he was a kid whenever he saw one, still makes Benny kill one if it happens to fancy suicide by crossing Dean’s line of vision. 

All of that aside, Dean is also not one to back down from a argument. His mother used to tell him he’d argue with their kitchen wall just on principle if he had to.

The look of disgust doesn’t fall from the boy’s face with a retort of, “It’s petrifying is what it is.” And yeah, Dean has to agree. He laughs at him anyway. 

Before Dean can form a rebuttal, though, Hester blows her god awful whistle, and that’s there a-okay to head back inside. It’s most likely closer to four now, and while Dean knows that his bed is currently waiting for him upstairs invitingly, he finds that he’s not ready to go just yet. 

“Oh.” The boy looks as disappointed as Dean feels and he’s just glad this isn’t one sided. 

“Yeah, uh….” Dean tries, but the other beats him to it. 

“Castiel Novak.” The boy introduces, sticks out his hand for Dean to take, and isn’t that fitting, an odd name for an odd boy. An odd boy that Dean already knows has him wrapped around his long, elegant fingers. 

Humoring him, because who even shakes hands anymore, Dean immediately reaches out to take his hand, although probably holds on to it a little too long for casual. The boy doesn’t seem to care. 

“Dean. Uh, Dean Winchester. 67B.” 

Castiel is apparently pleased with the introduction, with a nod and cheeky grin. Dean might just have a chance after all. This totally called for a fist pump later. Maybe even an apple pie from his favorite restaurant right off campus after his exam in the morning. Maybe Castiel can tag along this time around.

“Well, Mr. Dean Winchester from 67B with the constellation on his face and bow in his step, it’s nice to meet you. I must say, you are very cute, but we must part ways. Fear not though, I suspect that we have developed quite the spark in the last ten minutes of speaking. Uh oh.” And with the quickest of pecks on the cheek and most mischievous of smiles, Castiel lets Dean watch him walk away, right along with Benny’s jacket. Something tells him he shouldn’t be worried, though. 

Huh. Maybe Freshman weren't so bad after all.


End file.
